Tired
by Leah Sora-Parker
Summary: All Dan Cahill ever felt was Tired. (An introspective story about Dan before, during, and slightly after the Clue Hunt and the darker emotions that he might have felt. It says Hurt/Comfort but all it really is is hurt. Rated T for some darker thoughts and implications. One-shot.)


Tired.

That's all Dan Cahill has ever felt. He never really realized it at age three and by the time his fourth birthday came around, it was too late. All that were left were ashes, an empty place where two people called Mommy and Daddy should have been, and an aching tiredness that only his sister could stop. And it worked.

For a while.

There were plenty of times growing up when he felt the tiredness. He would always laugh and joke to relieve it, like it could fill up the void it left inside him. It wasn't until he found out that the little hoard of rocks and coins and other various items were called a collection that he found something else to fill the void.

He collected a lot of things. His little rock collection never really made it past his younger years of seeing something shiny and picking it up. On the other hand, his coin collection takes off with the propulsion of a rocket. He goes out and does crazy things, kid things, and breaks his bones. He collects the casts too.

Somewhere along the way, he stumbles across _other_ collections. Grave rubbings and dead things and maybe just a tiny bit of depravity. He used to talk for hours about it and it helped. Talking about others' misfortune and untimely deaths helps take a load off his shoulders, helps him forget his own problems. It all stops when the kids at school start whispering and Amy mentions offhandly that it was sort of morbid. He tries to keep it under lid after that.

After that, the tiredness creeps back in like a shadow in the corner of his eye. Not substantial enough to grasp but still there enough to feel, sneaking its way in until he realizes it's too late. It's back and he can't fight it. Not by himself.

He talks to Amy more often after that and they are practically joined at the hip. There is no Amy without Dan or Dan without Amy. There is no Amy and Dan, Dan and Amy. There is only AmyandDan and DanandAmy. Sometimes it's AmyandDan and Grace as well but that's rare, if at all.

Grace. Grace, Grace, _Grace._ Dan loves her but hates her at the same time. He hates that she leaves them, leaves _him_, and that all that is left in the apartment (not home, the apartment) is his sister and whichever au pair their 'Aunt' decided to leave them with today. He often wondered when his was little (well, littler) if he did something wrong, if it was something he said that made Grace not want him. He would sometimes wonder the same thing about Beatrice too but eventually that stopped after her showing, or rather, not showing how much she cared.

Whenever he went down to those lines of thought, it made him sad and the tiredness would come back tenfold. He always made sure to check the door, made sure it was locked, before he finally let the tears fall. He was sorry that he did something wrong, even if he didn't know what it was, and he was sorry he dragged Amy down with him. He was sorry.

When he got older though, the tears turned into something else. Something dark and twisted and something so utterly **_wrong wrong wrong._** He didn't want to admit it, that a tiny piece of him hated Grace and Beatrice and his parents for leaving him. He berated himself, tore himself down, broke himself and glued the shreds back together. He didn't get to feel that way because they already did so much for him. He was selfish for wanting more and he deserved to feel that way.

Then Grace came and he was so happy. It was like he was a kite flying in the wind, above all his problems waiting, lingering on the ground, ready to pounce on him when he landed. At the end of the day, after getting back to the apartment, he was just a broken kite in a tree, left there because it was too much of an effort to bring him back down to earth. And finally, he would fall down and be ripped to shreds by those problems.

He goes back into his slump of not-quite-hatred for everyone else and self-hatred for himself. Grace will come again and wash it all away like a bad dream. Not a nightmare because that's what older people have, not kids who want to be loved. The pattern of this repeats, like a song stuck on replay, and he becomes obsessive in counting the days where he deserves to feel bad and allowed to feel good. Never has he been so grateful that the bad outweigh the good.

Then Grace died and he felt like dying as well. He didn't have her there to steady him and ground him, to keep him from going insane. The tiredness came back but it brought along a new friend that had always been there but hadn't had a name until now: Misery.

But it didn't end there, oh no. He didn't get to grieve, didn't get the time to accept the reality that Grace wasn't there anymore, wasn't going to read stories aloud to him in her library, wasn't going to take him out for ice cream, wasn't there to tell to him that she loved him. She gave him the Clue Hunt instead and he couldn't help that even more hate welled up inside him.

The Clue Hunt was everything he expected it to be but nothing like it at all. There was love and betrayal and pain and action and life and death and _everything._ He's never felt more alive in his entire life than during those few (Weeks? Months? Years? Time had no longer become a constant.) moments, fleeting but everlasting. It was like that one song (_Counting Stars_, One Republic) had said, "I feel something so right doing the wrong thing. Everything that kills me makes me feel alive."

He was pushed to his limits and beyond. And he savored every moment of it. Everything was in his face, real and loud and vibrant and so utterly _alive._ He and Amy were at the top of the world, even if it seemed as though they were at the bottom of their graves. Betrayals didn't sting as bad because he was a superhero, and the bad guys were always the ones that tried to get close. It was so obvious that it was almost cliché. Trust no one. That was the number one rule.

Then Irina had to go and sacrifice herself for them throwing everything off balance, leaving the world with a slight tilt that hadn't been there before. Anger surged inside him, anger at the fire, anger at himself, anger at Irina and the fact that she was just another person who left him too. But it was, he was still the superhero. Irina was just the tragic victim who turned villain in an attempt to heal herself. Her death was just her redemption, a pat on the head as if to say, "Good job, you finally did the right thing." He was _fine_, he was still the superhero and he could still glide over his worries like a bird flying over angry storm clouds.

But then… Lester. Normal, ordinary Lester who wasn't meant to get caught up in this, wasn't supposed to be _hurt, wasn't supp__**osed to be killed. Why was he killed? What did his death have to do with anything, he was a normal dude that happened to be at the wrong place at the right time just like all the other Cahill victims.**_

Lester taught him that there was no happy endings, that there were no superheroes in this world. A hero wouldn't let a bystander be harmed, let him die. There was no happy endings for Lester or his family because of them and he let the tiredness swallow him whole. There was no prize at the end of the game called Life, just death and grief and regrets over what he should have done. There were no heroes because they were dead and he had killed them.

* * *

><p>Dan Cahill stood in his new room, looking out the window at the tree next to his window. It was a young one, its leaves just barely brushing the bottom of the windowpane. It had sprouted from the ashes of an old tree that had been struck by lightning, burned down like a heretic. It sort of fit his mood right now.<p>

"Dan, Nellie and I are running to the store real quick. Don't burn down the house or anything!"

He knew she meant it jokingly but it only made him scowl as he thought about all the time fire had ruined his life. Water wasn't any better. Still, he forced himself into an upbeat tone as he replied, "'Kay, don't be surprised if you end with whipcream in your socks!" He heard her mutter something but couldn't make it out (probably "dweeb" or something like that), the door cracking brilliantly in the background as the car pulled out of the driveway.

When he was sure they were finally gone, Dan wandered up to the roof. They weren't quite done with this part, apparently the rails needed more tightening or whatever. It didn't matter, he knew what he came for. He walked slowly over to the edge and peered down, watching the wind rustle the grass and bushes that were just underneath.

Cautiously, he draped his legs over the side and laid down on his back to stare up at the sky. The thoughts from earlier came back to him with a vengeance, turning curious eyes into drooping ones. He was tired. Resting his eyes for a moment, he didn't notice when he began to slip, body inching away from him like a creeping caterpillar, only that gravity had suddenly taken place in a gut wrenching moment as his hands scrambled for a grip.

As luck would have it, the railing provided a perfect one as he clung to it like a lifeline. He clawed at the silver rod, trying to find a better position before gravity decided to finish the job. It was of those moments were there was no conscious thought, just a string of instincts that instantly took control when his mind could not. Breathing began to slow and a vice grip was applied and he began to think better.

It was so easy, he mused, to die. Just a simple fall off of the roof, a few too many cigarettes, even just a little bonk to the head could end a person's life. It was amazing how people could just survive everyday life in general, no reason to add in Cahills when all it took was just some bad luck. He blinked sharply as the railing began to clatter, the bottom scraping against the roof as it came out of place.

He clawed at the roof, searching for a handhold when he knew there would be none. Was this some sort of divine punishment? Some cosmic retribution over all the things he did wrong? No, that couldn't be it, he didn't nothing wrong except let them die and hate them for it but he was just a kid, what was he supposed to do?

He wasn't worried, even if he was laughing hysterically. This is the part where Amy and Nellie get home and see him on the roof and they race against the clock again before they whisk him up with seconds to spare. This is the part where one of his cousins decided to pay them a surprise visit and come rescue him. This is the part where Alistair comes over with some new microwavable burrito that nobody but Alistair himself that was interesting, sorry, or that Fiske came home from his latest mission to save Dan just in the nick of time.

…Right?

The railing gave way with a screech and for a second he floated in the air, suspended between life and death and a trickwire that would give at the slightest tug. Then it all came crashing down as a muffled scream built in his throat that _he didn't want this, he didn't want to die, he didn't want to be left behind and forgotten, he wanted to say that he was sorry, he wanted to collect some more stuff and tell his family that he loved them, he wanted to sleep._

And with that, Dan Cahill fell.

* * *

><p>His sister stared at him with worried eyes as she berated him for the third time that day at the hospital about how stupid and irresponsible he was and that she was so glad that he was okay, you better not do that again mister, with a pointed finger in his face and all. Suddenly, she frowned and felt his forehead, worry lines marring her own.<p>

"Hey, you look tired. Why don't you rest?" she suggested.

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, yeah I guess I kinda am."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Not officially back yet but I'm working on it! Here, have this angst.<strong>


End file.
